'you're right
it does become you.'
the words came out
in a faint mist of cold air
while you wore disgruntlement
with more beauty than your eyes could hold.
and I thought to myself,
yes, you're right,
we are dying too bland,
in dry shreds stretched thin,
I with alien seeds spread in my land
you motionless, in a tempest, like if you were never engaged.
As I look at the gleaming band surrounding the whole of your universe
I realized the scents of all our cities
had already met within us.
reaped, now we just mark time with impatience
until we're alone with who we've become.
I like this, Eila, the way it unravels, the teasing, lingering words - I'll take it. Warmly, Gina.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Skillfull poet you are Ella